The Darkness, It Wants
by sailorhathor
Summary: In early 2003, Chad Goodwell murdered five people because the voice of God told him to. Now, Sam's visions reveal the truth of who was really behind it all.
1. Chapter 1

**The Darkness, It Wants**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 1 of 3  
**Rating:** Adult for sexual situations between two men, discussion of sexual kink involving guns, bad language, and violence (including several graphic murder scenes)  
**Dates:** Written August 2008  
**Word Count:** 15,380 total  
**Summary:** In early 2003, Chad Goodwell murdered five people because the voice of God told him to. Sam's visions finally reveal the truth of how the 19-year-old college student was manipulated into destroying so many lives, and who was really behind it all.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Discussion of gun kink. Graphic murder scenes. Spoilers for _Miracles_ "Hand of God" and "The Ferguson Syndrome." In fact, this story includes dialogue right out of "Hand of God" and names Chad mentioned as being people he knew. Spoilers for _Supernatural_ "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1" and the pilot. Spoilers for the classic _Star Trek_ episode "The Empath." One scene contains homophobic language.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini for beta'ing.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows "Unspoken."  
The secondary title for this story could be _Five People Chad Goodwell Killed and Two He Didn't, But Not for Lack of Trying_. :D But that would make it awfully long.  
In my mind, Chad Goodwell would have turned 20 later in 2003 if he had lived. That makes him the same age as Sam.  
I picked the name Gary out of my head. Then I rewatched "Hand of God" and was pleasantly surprised to find that Chad actually knew someone named Gary! After that, I added Vicki in here too. :D  
This is pretty much where I go quite AU off SPN canon. The boys learn things in this fic that they didn't learn in season one. There will still be some SPN canon in this series, but I just had to note that.  
The sex scene in this chapter has been slightly toned down for Fanfiction . net. Read the unedited version on my websote (remove the extra spaces): dementedstuff . com / miracles / crossdarkwants01.htm.

The compact machine hummed away as Paul knelt by it, waiting for it to fill the air mattress he'd borrowed from Mrs. Bongiovi for Dean and Sam. Of course, he and Dean wished they could share Paul's bed, but with Sam there, they didn't think it was possible. Sam just sat back on the couch, twisting his hair around his finger, feeling satisfied with himself in a gleefully evil way as he watched his brother pass Paul longing looks he thought were given stealthily. If Dean wasn't going to tell him where he really wanted to sleep that night, Sam was going to milk the naïve routine and have a little fun with it.

"It's going to take that thing at least ten minutes to fill up, Paul. Why don't you come have a seat?" Dean suggested, and patted the couch next to him.

Unsure that was such a good idea, Paul hesitated, but ultimately gave in and took a seat next to Dean. Dean quietly slipped a hand under Paul's rear end. They were sitting close enough that Sam wouldn't be able to see it. Dean gave Paul's bottom a good squeeze. As he was getting used to Dean's touchy-feely nature (also known as his constant groping), Paul kept himself from flinching this time.

Dean spoke conversationally, as if he didn't currently have his hand in a very naughty place. "Do you think Keel will get his tape recorder fixed or just buy a new one?"

"Probably buy a new one."

"Will he get that done tomorrow?"

"I imagine." Paul casually laid an arm across the back of the couch. "You're really anxious to do that interview."

"I wouldn't say anxious..."

"I'm actually surprised that you agreed to it. Why do you want to talk to Keel so bad?"

Dean shrugged. "He knows a lot of stuff. Maybe he could shed some light on the things my family has been wondering about for the last twenty years."

That made sense; Paul nodded.

Knowing more than Paul knew, Sam was aware of the other matters Dean wished to discuss with Keel. He wondered what Mr. Keel would say when he found out that Paul's dead mother was supposed to be present at their fateful meeting with Paul's father on the cusp of the end of the world.

"Are you sure you don't want to take my bed?" Paul asked Sam and Dean for the third time that night. "I could sleep on the air mattress."

"Yeah, we know you could, Paul, but for the umpteenth time, we're not going to take your bed," Sam replied. He could tell by the look on Dean's face that he felt the same way. "You've been nice enough to invite us to stay here. We're not going to steal your bed."

"Yeah, the air mattress will be fine," Dean added. He wanted to give Paul a good spanking for harping on the switching of beds; if Dean got a chance to sneak into the same bed as Paul, he didn't want it to be something that would announce every move they made, like a noisy air mattress.

Hell, he just wanted to give Paul a good spanking.

"Okay, that was your last chance," Paul joked with a laugh.

Sam eyed how close Dean and Paul were sitting, and stood up. "I'm going to get ready for bed." He decided to give them a bit of a break, some time to fool around before he came back into the room. Sometimes, Sam felt like a killjoy, being the reason that they had to stay apart. "Can I take a shower?"

Both Paul and Dean started to smile at the thought that they'd have some time alone together, no matter how brief, but quickly tried not to seem so happy about it. "Sure, help yourself."

As soon as Sam closed the door, Dean yanked Paul onto his lap. Paul helped by pouncing on him, straddling his hips with his knees. They collided softly into a deep kiss that was well worth the wait. Immediately, hands went to intimate places and bodies rubbed against each other sinuously.

Paul, already beginning to pant, contradicted himself by saying, "We shouldn't get too worked up," as he pushed up on Dean's T-shirt. He didn't take it off; he couldn't, what with Dean still wearing a button-up shirt over it. But that didn't matter - Paul really just wanted to rub his lover's chest while they kissed.

Dean heard Sam turn on the water. "Sam usually takes ten minute showers. We got some time."

They kissed again, Paul rubbing Dean's nipples. "What do you want to do?"

Growling, Dean squeezed Paul's ass in his hands. "I want to fuck you. Want to fuck you so bad." He ground Paul's crotch against his own. Paul moaned softly. "But we can't take that chance. Doesn't mean we can't pretend." Dean patted Paul's bottom. "Turn around and sit in my lap. Hurry."

Paul did as he was told, his back to Dean now. Taking him by the hips, Dean readjusted Paul until he was squarely where he wanted him, although their clothes still separated them. "Can you feel me there?" he asked, easing Paul to lie back on him.

"Uh huh," Paul answered, his voice thick with arousal. "You're really hard."

"Let's pretend I'm inside you." Dean started to rub himself against Paul's ass, simulating sex. "You want me inside you, Paul?" When he said 'inside,' Dean bucked up against him playfully.

"I wish you could be more than anything," Paul whispered. He began to move his backside against Dean as he would if they were having sex.

Dean really liked how eager Paul was to fool around, even when it was a quickie. He grabbed Paul's crotch through his pants and began to massage him. Paul mewled. "I'm fucking you," Dean breathed into his ear. He used his free hand to undo the first few buttons of Paul's shirt and then dove in, stroking his chest and stomach. As the heat turned up, Dean just fanned the fire, kissing Paul's neck and ear. Paul ran his hand through Dean's hair. "You feel incredible."

Another minute and they were riding the waves of pleasure, both panting, simply bucking against each other as if they were really having sex, Dean pushing Paul down against him, hands everywhere. They tried to be as quiet as they could, keeping their lips busy to stifle errant moans.

Sam got out of the shower without turning off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went over to the door, opening it just a crack. Paul's bathroom was just off the living room; it provided Sam with a good view of what Paul and his brother were doing on the couch. Damn, they couldn't keep their hands off each other for five minutes? He remembered what it was like when he and Jessica first got together... they were just like that. Sam made a face and closed the door. His brother being intimate with someone wasn't on the short list of things he enjoyed seeing, at least not since sometime in his teenage years. Sam had outgrown peeping a long time ago.

Still, seeing Dean in compromising positions with Paul only got him used to the sight, desensitizing him to it, so he wouldn't freak out down the line. Sam could only imagine what Dean would be like when he realized that Sam knew and felt it gave him a green light to make out with Paul openly. He wasn't sure _Paul_ would be comfortable with it, though. Either way, Sam couldn't allow himself to spazz out in reaction to his brother being with a guy. It was just an unfamiliar thing. If Dean thought he was too freaked out about it, it might alienate them from each other, and Sam didn't want that.

He gave them another minute, then turned off the water.

Dean moaned quietly into Paul's neck with every thrust, his rhythm quickening. Faster and faster.

"The water just went off," Paul panted, looking at the bathroom door with alarm.

"He's gotta dry himself... dress... gotta minute..." Dean whispered back, and added, "Almost there."

All Paul could think of was getting himself put back together so Sam wouldn't know what had just been happening in his absence. When Dean came, Paul didn't.

Gritting his teeth, Dean made a strangled grunt and held Paul against him. Tingling shockwaves moved up Paul's legs and back. Dean held his breath for several moments as he came, then let it out into Paul's ear with a curt moan. He panted, making, "Mmm..." noises.

In the bathroom, Sam pulled an old T-shirt over his head. He was almost dressed for bed.

"You didn't," Dean breathed into Paul's ear.

Paul tried to disentangle himself from Dean, grabbing his hand. With a mischievous grin, Dean refused to let go of his crotch. "It's okay, I'll take care of it. Just leggo."

"Maybe you should go in the bedroom and wait for me, and once Sammy falls asleep - "

Sam took hold of the bathroom doorknob and rattled it to let them know he was coming.

Eyes going wide, Dean flung Paul off his lap. Paul landed on the couch next to him, frantically crossing his legs and simultaneously trying to button his shirt and smooth out his pants at the same time, all while appearing totally casual. Dean yanked down his shirt and draped an arm over his crotch to hide any wet spots that may be showing. They were both a little sweaty and short of breath.

Sam came out of the bathroom, running a towel vigorously through his hair. He stared at his brother and Paul, trying to look relaxed and failing miserably. "Shower's free," Sam deadpanned.

"My turn!" Dean cried, and sprang up off the couch. He grabbed his duffel bag on the way by and disappeared into the bathroom.

Paul attempted to look innocent for half a second before mumbling, "I've got something in..." and scurrying into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Rolling his eyes, Sam checked to make sure the mattress was firm enough, turned off the air pump, and plopped down on the bed. He folded the towel over his pillow and laid back on it to wait for his hair to dry. Sam talked quietly to himself. "Apparently, you attended Stanford, got an excellent score on the LSAT's, but you're still an unobservant dumbfuck." He then spoke to himself in a dopey voice. "Duh, I didn't notice that when I go-ed in the bathroom, everyone was fully dressed, but when I camed out, their clothes was messed up, duuuuh. Why are you panting, Dean? Did you take a lap around the building? Duh hur."

Now alone in his room, Paul locked the door, got a towel and laid back on his bed; he closed his eyes and finished himself off, masturbating while picturing Dean in the shower. Muscled back, water running down the well-defined middle and over his tight buttocks... hands soaping up his chest... mmmm. Paul would have loved to wait for Dean to finish what he'd started, but with Sam in the next room, fully capable of waking up and catching them this time, he didn't feel at all comfortable with it.

While in the shower, Dean was overcome with pleasurable feelings, stroking his mind through the psychic link he had with Paul. It was Paul's way of letting him know that it was better if they just finished now and let it rest for the night. "Damn... oh well, we had our fun, huh baby?" Dean floated on those feelings as he took an extra long shower.

Sam fell asleep while waiting for Dean to come back. He started awake when his brother, dressed for bed, sat on the air mattress next to him. When Sam opened his eyes, Dean was grinning like he knew something as he watched Paul go into the bathroom. "Sorry, I might've used the rest of the hot water," he whispered.

Paul rolled his eyes and waved it off. "I'm not planning to be in here long." He tried to close the door softly.

Sam watched his brother give a mighty, neck-popping stretch, grinning like a maniac. Dean only did that when he'd just engaged in a satisfying hunt or some pretty good sex. "You're a jerk, using up all the hot water," Sam teased.

"Couldn't help it." Dean opened his mouth to finish that thought when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. "Uh oh." With an evil grin, he snapped the phone open and answered the call. "Hey, are you here? Oh, perfect. I'll be right down." Hanging up, Dean stood and headed for the front door. "I'll be downstairs. If Paul comes out, tell him I'm making a call outside because the reception's better in the parking lot."

"Who was that?" Sam asked. It was the second time that day that Dean had stepped outside to take or make a call in secrecy. The first time had been shortly before they left SQ headquarters for the day.

"Savannah. She and Eric just made it. Remember them? I want to check in, make sure they're okay. Don't tell Paul they're here."

"Why the heck not?"

"I'll explain later. Just do it, please?" Dean slowly opened the front door.

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. "You're up to something."

Slinking into the hall, Dean peered back around the door and said, "Just do it," through gritted teeth.

"You're not even going to put on any shoes?" Sam called, but in a hushed voice.

Dean just hissed, "Shh!" and closed the door behind him.

As they had previously agreed, Savannah and Eric waited for Dean just outside the parking lot of Paul's building, out of sight. She had to wave at Dean to get his attention. Eric had been leaning on a parking meter, looking a bit mopey as he often did, but once he caught sight of Dean, his face lit up. Out of embarrassment, he tried to hide how much he enjoyed seeing Dean again.

"Hey, how's it going?" Dean gave Savannah a warm hug. "It's been a long time."

"Hey..." She squeezed his neck. "We're okay. How are you, you ol' stud?"

"Same as always." Dean opened his arms and grinned for Eric. He could tell how awkward Eric felt about seeing him again. "Don't I get a hug?"

Biting his thumbnail, Eric hesitated for a moment and then swung an arm around Dean's neck. "Hi Dean," he said quietly.

Dean hugged him, patting his back, making a mental note of how thin Eric felt in his arms. "It's been a while. You feel like you've had about three good meals since then."

Eric tried to laugh it off. He absently picked a string off Dean's T-shirt. "Six."

Dean chuckled.

Not able to help it, Eric added, "You're looking good. Real good."

Savannah smirked.

For some reason Dean couldn't quite figure yet, he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave this option open. He knew that Eric would do anything to satisfy him, all he had to do was snap his fingers, but... "Thanks," was all Dean could think of to say.

"Now, go over it with me again," Savannah began. "Exactly what kind of file do you want me to make?"

Dean explained precisely what he wanted: A file that would be a parody of the one Keel had built on the Winchester family, with Keel as the star. "If you have the chance to get some embarrassing shots, by all means, take all you can. If you see him up to something that doesn't seem quite right, get pictures of that too. He's got a lot of secrets; I want to know what they are. And if he tries to hire you out to take more photos of me and my brother, you play along, but you're really going to screw those shots up. Whatever will throw him off the scent."

"Got it."

"Keel's got two people working with him. I don't care if you get shots of the chick. If she does something boneheaded, I'd probably enjoy seeing it, but she's not the focus of this prank." Dean remembered how Evie had given him so much shit about his weapons. "On second thought, I'd _love_ a few humiliating shots of her. Just for my own amusement."

Snickering, Savannah replied, "Sure."

"Don't take any pictures of the guy who works with Keel. His name is Paul. Dark hair, dresses really nice, kinda uptight - "

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about."

"Good. He's not a part of this. I have no beef with him, so I'd rather you not take any pictures of him. Okay?"

"Whatever you want."

Dean didn't think that Paul would approve of his little joke, so he wanted to keep him out of it as much as possible. "Check in with me every once in a while and let me know how things are going."

"Okay." Savannah rocked on her heels, looking at Dean as if she expected something. She didn't wait long before holding out her hand.

Dean looked at it. "Huh? Oh." He had taken his jacket with him when he came down; now he pulled out his wallet. "I'm gonna give you some cash and a credit card to start off with. I know you'll like this one because it has one of your favorite names on it."

Savannah read the card. "Chris Robinson. Black Crowes, sweet."

Grinning, Dean continued, "As soon as I got that one, I thought of you. And it's ideal, because Chris could be your name or his. So you can both use it."

Eric flashed a smile at that too.

"Good deal, Winchester. Hey, we should have a party on this as soon as possible." Savannah wiggled the credit card between her fingers. "You wanna come over once we get a hotel room? Like, say, tomorrow night?"

A small jolt of excited electricity shot up Eric's spine. He hoped Dean would say yes.

"Oh, I don't know... we're working a case here and I'm not sure I can get away. I'll let you know, okay?" Dean's wild, party-loving side pictured him drinking a lot of beer and doing one sibling, then the other, but his loyal, workaholic side said he couldn't do that, he needed to concentrate on his God is Nowhere dreams and the Mothman.

And Paul.

To try to entice him, Savannah drew circles on his chest with her finger as she said, "Sure, you let us know. If you do come, bring one of your guns, okay?"

He appeared confused, furrowing his brow. "Why?"

"'Cause I wasn't lying when I said that guns make me hot." She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "I want you to fuck me with it."

Dean shuddered deliciously just thinking about that. He stared off into space, picturing it, a stunned look on his face.

Savannah added, "Bet you've never done that before."

Seeing the look on Dean's face, and knowing what his sister had said, Eric couldn't help but laugh to himself. "Ewww," he said, and made a face. "You're such a freak, Sav."

Upstairs, Sam was trying to stay awake so he could harangue his brother about what was going on, but he was losing that battle. Just as he was drifting off, a sharp pain stabbed through the spot between his eyes.

Hissing, Sam took hold of the bridge of his nose with two fingers and rubbed, but it didn't help. It rarely did. He opened his eyes and saw Paul's couch stretch and warp until it changed into his vision.

"Hey Chad. Chad, you hear me, faggot?"

A kid, about college age, with brown hair and a harmless-looking face, walked across the parking lot of a movie theatre with a girl of similar age. He was dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_, complete with a full face of overdone makeup, corset, garter belt, and stockings. His female friend had dressed as Columbia, gold sparkling jacket and all. They both turned around when the guy in the college letter jacket called to Chad.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"I hear you," Chad replied, trying to put up a brave front. "We'll be late to the movie, Gary." Chad saw that Gary wasn't alone. Two other guys, big guys, flanked him. "We don't want any shit."

All three of them were snickering. "You don't want any shit?" Gary laughed, gesturing to Chad's clothes. "Did you look in the mirror before you left the house?"

The girl spoke up. "Come on, Gary, leave him alone."

"Why are you hanging out with this faggot, Hannah? I mean, look at 'im," one of the others said.

"I'm not a faggot," protested Chad.

Gary responded, "That just makes it worse. You're a tranny, then. What would your mom say if she saw you dressed like that?"

His friends laughed.

"I'm not a transvestite, either."

"We're dressed for _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_," Hannah offered, trying to help.

"So because you're going to a movie, it's okay to dress like a whore?"

"It's like a costume party," Hannah said. She rolled her eyes. "Let us go before we miss the opening credits."

"But there's too much fun to be had here." Gary walked up and put an arm around Chad's neck. Chad tried to shake him off, but the other guy was too big. "My cousin here thinks he's a funny man."

"Yeah, he posted some shit about the team on Live Journal," one of the other guys said.

"Yeah." Gary pinched Chad's cheek. Chad grimaced and struggled to get away from him. "Apparently, we're all a bunch of nimrods who would rather screw each other in the locker room than play good field hockey." He saw the rouge on his fingers, made a face at it, and wiped it on Chad's clothes. "You thought we wouldn't see that, huh? How did you say it?"

"I think he said something like, 'The team will never see this because they're all too stupid to know how to use a computer.' But, I'm paraphrasing," Gary's friend, Nate, said.

"Wow, I'm impressed, you used the word 'paraphrasing' correctly," Chad spat back before his better judgment could stop him.

Gary punched him in the stomach. Chad doubled over with a loud expelling of breath.

Cringing, Hannah cried, "Come on, Gary. He's your cousin. Save it for the field."

"You know what he wrote about us, Han. Just stay out of it."

"We're not going to do anything to the little faggot that he doesn't deserve," Nate said, and rushed at Chad. He punched upward, connecting with Chad's chin, and knocked him backward onto the ground.

Chad spit out blood. "Stop it," he said, his voice shaking.

"Oh, I think he's gonna cry." The three guys surrounded him, circling like vultures.

"If you don't stop, I'll call the police," Hannah threatened.

"I think you wanna keep your mouth shut, Han. You know why." Gary poked Chad in the chest with his foot. "You say a bunch of crap about us on the Internet and then you go out in public looking like this? And you expect us not to beat you up? I think _you're_ the stupid one, Chad."

"Chadette," Gary's other friend corrected with a laugh.

"Not fair. You got me outnumbered," Chad said. He felt at his mouth and looked at the blood on his fingers.

"Yeah, 'cause you said shit about every one of us."

"We just happen to be getting back at you all at the same time," Nate snickered.

"Guys, come on..." Hannah clearly waffled between going for the police and doing nothing, and Chad had no idea why.

When Chad tried to get up, Gary kicked him in the stomach. That spurred his friends on to join him, all three kicking the boy repeatedly in the chest and midsection. Hannah tried to push one of them aside to get him to stop, which caused him to accidentally kick Chad in the face. Quite a bit of blood spurted from his nose. Chad cried out in pain.

"You guys, quit! He's bleeding really bad!"

"That's the point of beating somebody up, idiot."

Hannah pushed the guy backward and they all argued for half a minute while Chad bled onto the pavement, trying feebly to get up. Suddenly, Gary yelped and pointed to the blood on the ground. "What the fuck?!"

The blood was crawling across the pavement like it was a live thing, moving without the assistance of human intervention. It formed itself into words.

_God is Now Here._

"Did you see that?!"

They stared at the blood in shock. They had all seen it. "Holy crap," Nate said.

"It... it was moving on its own!" Hannah cried.

Panting, Chad looked down at his own blood, just as bewildered as everyone else. His pain was temporarily forgotten. His blood had formed words. _On its own._ Like the hand of God had just come down and traced out the letters on the ground.

Although the others may forget what happened there that night, Chad would not forget. His life was changed forev

"Sam! Sam!"

Sam came out of the vision with a chest-rattling gasp. His head pounded as well as his heart. But the vision faded, and he could see Paul kneeling over him, shaking his shoulder. He'd been in the grip of the vision long enough for Paul to finish his shower and dress for bed. Sam put a hand to his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Had a vision." Hissing, he rubbed the space between his eyes.

"Where's Dean?"

"Downstairs. He got... a phone call."

"Can I get you anything? A cold cloth for your head?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, that'd be... grea - " He finished the word by growling the _A_ and then crying out in pain. "Another one. Another vision... is coming!"

"Sam, what should I do? Do you want me to get Dean?"

There was nothing Paul could do. Sam just had to wait the vision out and see what it would show him. Another wave of pain shot through his head and he grabbed Paul's arm just to have something to squeeze, as it was the first thing upon which his hand fell. Out of a need to comfort him, Paul gripped Sam's forearm near the wrist, intending to rub it, whatever he could do to let Dean's little brother know he was there. And suddenly, he _was_ there.

Paul could see what Sam was seeing.

His face beaten up and bandaged, Chad Goodwell sat at a small desk in what seemed to be a dorm room. He didn't notice the black mist coming under the door, forming itself into the shape of a child behind him.

Paul could see Sam standing near him, quietly watching this scene. "Sam?"

Startled, he looked at Paul, astonished that he was there. "What are you doing here?"

"I touched you, and suddenly..." They both looked down to see Paul gripping Sam's arm. "I guess we know something else I can do with the power Diane McNeal gave me."

Sam nodded. "Mr. Keel called it projective clairvoyance." He stared at Paul's hand on his arm again. "It isn't just projective."

Not having any idea what to call this new facet of his power, Paul simply continued, "I'm seeing your vision."

Sam nodded again. "You've never done this before?"

"No." Paul, watching the mist form itself into the shape of Tommy Ferguson, asked, "Can you interact with your visions? We have to stop this. That's Chad Goodwell, and... Tommy? Tommy, listen to me - "

"We can't stop it," Sam replied, shaking his head. "We're seeing the past, Paul. This is retrocognition."

"Tommy, don't tell him to kill anybody! I know you're afraid of the Darkness, but those people aren't going to destroy the world. Don't do it - "

"Paul! He can't hear you!" Sam called, and shook the arm that Paul was holding to get his attention. Paul looked at him, a desperate, stricken look on his face. "We can only observe this. We're seeing the past."

Paul realized he could barely move. "We're not actually here?"

"No."

Tommy said, "Chad?" and the youth turned around, surprised to see a little boy standing in his room.

"But we have to stop this! Tommy is going to tell Chad to kill the God is Nowhere people. I can't just stand here and watch it happen."

"What are you doing in my room? How'd you get in?" Chad was asking.

"Paul, we're not supposed to change what happened," Sam tried to explain. "There's something important we're here to see. Just try and listen, okay?"

"But - " Paul noticed that when Tommy turned his head and the light caught his eyes, the irises looked red, and a small tear of blood appeared beside his left one. It was gone as quickly as Paul had seen it. "Oh my God... Dean was right. That's not Tommy."

"Tommy," looking about the way he had when Paul met him, pouted sadly at Chad. "My name's Tommy Ferguson. I know who you are and what you mean to the world." He tried a small, warm smile, attempting to be comforting, as he knew what he was about to endeavor to get the college student to accept would be quite unbelievable and upsetting. "We have something very important to discuss."

**The Darkness, It Wants** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  



	2. Chapter 2

**The Darkness, It Wants**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 2 of 3  
**Rating:** Adult for sexual situations between two men, discussion of sexual kink involving guns, bad language, and violence (including several graphic murder scenes)  
**Dates:** Written August 2008  
**Word Count:** 15,380 total  
**Summary:** In early 2003, Chad Goodwell murdered five people because the voice of God told him to. Sam's visions finally reveal the truth of how the 19-year-old college student was manipulated into destroying so many lives, and who was really behind it all.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Discussion of gun kink. Graphic murder scenes. Spoilers for _Miracles_ "Hand of God" and "The Ferguson Syndrome." Spoilers for _Supernatural_ "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1" and the pilot. Spoilers for the classic _Star Trek_ episode "The Empath." One scene contains homophobic language.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini for beta'ing.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows "Unspoken."  
More notes at the end of this chapter.

"You wanna see this digital camera I got? It takes movies too." Savannah knelt by her bag and dug around in it. "Hm, wouldn't that be fun, Dean? Making a movie?"

As he looked down at Savannah and the way she was looking at him, Dean felt like the last morsel of food at a shipwreck. "Gee, Savvy, I think you're trying to tell me something."

Eric snickered.

"You're a genius, Winchester. I haven't had a good lay in months; of course I'm throwing myself at you. Don't pretend you don't enjoy it."

Maybe before, he would have responded differently, but now... all Dean could do in response was picture himself making that movie with Paul. It bothered him, the hold Paul Callan had on him. No one could tame Dean Winchester. "You know me, Savannah. I'm smoother than that."

Snickering again, Eric said, "Not like Sav. She might as well be sprawling on the ground for you right now."

Savannah smacked his arm hard.

Eric, laughing, added, "With a sign in her crotch that says, 'Free buffet.'"

She rubbed quickly at his arm, trying to give him a friction burn. He just chuckled at her and pulled away.

Dean suddenly looked down and grinned. "Hey, a twenty." He bent over and picked up the bill. "It's my lucky day."

"No fair. Eric only brings me quarters," Savannah lamented, referring to Eric's abilities.

Dean remembered her describing for him how whenever Eric was around, she was always finding quarters. No other type of coin, just quarters. It was some sort of strange byproduct of the karmic displacement. "I guess he likes me better," Dean joked.

Eric looked embarrassed, laughing shyly.

"Seriously, look at what this camera can do, Dean." Savannah pointed to various features, demonstrating what she could do with them. "I can even take a panoramic picture."

"Oh, that'll come in handy, taking photos of people," Eric said sarcastically.

"Do you want me to hit you again?"

She held the camera at arm's length, taking a picture of herself pressed closely to Dean, then showed him what it looked like on the camera's viewscreen. "Isn't that quality nice?"

"Yeah, it's good." He noticed how close she was to him, and again, his mind turned to the wild fantasy she had brought up and whether or not he could go through with it, and why he even had doubts. "So, when I, uh... use the gun on you... you don't want it to be _loaded_, do you?"

His mind clearly blown by the absurdity of that question, Eric started to laugh. "Oh my _God_ that's so twisted."

The injuries to his face healed, Chad sat in a college lecture hall, trying to write down notes as the professor spoke. The imposter Tommy stood in the aisle, trying to get his attention.

"Chad? _Chad?_ I know you can hear me." He waited for Chad to answer. Chad tried to ignore him. "I've been coming to you for months now. You know I'm not going to give up until you answer me. What's it going to be?"

Keeping his eyes to the front of the room, Chad remained silent.

Tommy sighed, pacing the small space between one row of seats and the other. "I know I freaked you out the other night when I brought up you finally realizing your destiny. It seems extreme, doesn't it? But you must do it, Chad. Only you can do it. You're a warrior of God, and you must pave the way for him."

"Shut up. I'm in class," Chad muttered. A couple of his fellow students who were sitting nearby glanced at him with confused looks.

Tommy turned, the light hitting his eyes at an angle. Again, Sam and Paul saw the red flash. "I had a dream about Tommy before I met him. His eyes looked normal at first, but by the end of the dream, his eyes looked like that, with the red irises," Paul said. "And that blood tear was there. I don't understand that, though, because Tommy, the real Tommy, remembered the dream too. He had the same dream."

"Maybe it was Tommy at first," Sam suggested, "but by the end of the dream, this imposter took over."

"Then this thing... whatever it is, that manipulated Chad Goodwell... maybe it tried to manipulate me too."

The fake Tommy ignored Chad's commands for him to stop. "What can I say to convince you? Can you not understand that time is short? Does God have to come in here Himself and talk to you?"

Chad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He wanted to point out that Tommy didn't talk like any kid he'd ever heard, but he couldn't say it out loud because of where he was. Instead, he thought it at Tommy, knowing that the child could read his mind.

"Oh, really?" responded Tommy. "Well that's because I'm no normal child. Why else do you think God chose me as His messenger?"

Paul shook his head. "That's not Tommy." He looked at Sam, clearly frustrated. "It's not Tommy."

Sam nodded at him. "I believe you." He regarded Tommy critically. "What do you think happened just now? Did he read Chad's mind?"

"Seems like it."

"Jeez." Sam scoffed. "Can you imagine having that thing around all the time, talking to you, and no one else can see it? And it knows your every thought?"

Considering that, Paul felt great sympathy for Chad for perhaps the first time. "It tormented him. It tormented the kid for months. If only Chad had someone he could talk to who would believe him, someone he... what's that?"

Sam had noticed it too; black mist in the shape of a man floated in through a door at the back of the lecture hall. As it drifted down the stairs, hovering several inches above them but still moving its "feet" as if it was walking, the students on either side of the aisle wrinkled up their noses like they smelled something unpleasant.

Both Sam and Paul mirrored their actions as the odor reached them too. "Sulphur," Sam said quietly.

"A demon?" Paul suggested.

His stomach sinking, Sam didn't respond.

The misty shape stopped next to Chad's chair. Chad also seemed to smell it, but obviously could not see it. The shape put a hand over the boy's ear and began to speak to him.

"Chad... this is God," the shape said.

Chad froze, eyes going wide. He looked around for the source of the voice.

Another student nearby checked his watch. He tapped it, put it to his ear, and made a disappointed sound.

"His watch stopped," Sam whispered harshly.

Paul noticed he was shaking. "Sam?"

Again, Sam did not respond.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "You made me do it, Chad. You have to be convinced that this little task I've been talking to you about is part of your destiny. I had no other choice but to call in the big man."

Two glowing lights appeared in the head of the black shape, like it had opened its eyes.

They were yellow.

"I've done something to indicate to you that I'm suicidal, Winchester?" Savannah asked, a hand on her hip and a grin in her tone of voice.

Eric began to giggle.

Rolling his eyes, Dean replied, "I never said that I wanted the gun to be loaded, I just asked if _you_ wanted the gun to be loaded - "

"That's sick, Dean."

Eric giggled harder.

"You know, some people like a little danger in their sex; it gets them off... like, they want to do it over a pit of venomous snakes. That kind of stuff."

"Oh, I think being fucked with a loaded gun would be more than a _little_ dangerous."

Eric was outright laughing now.

"Look, this is your thing, Savvy." Dean, obviously frustrated, continued to try to defend himself. "You're not going to characterize me as the sick one here."

She smiled ferally. "Oh no, I'd never paint _you_ as being the sicko. A guy who once asked me to watch while he had a threesome with two strippers."

"That's a totally normal male fantasy, not at all sick. Just ask Eric if he wouldn't like that."

Laughing so hard his voice shook, Eric said, "I think it'd be pretty sick if I wanted my sister to watch me have sex with anybody, Dean."

Now Savannah laughed.

Dean swatted angrily at Eric's head. "You _know_ that's not what I meant."

"Dean, just face it," Savannah began. "You're a big sicko like the rest of us."

This seemed to placate him; he settled down, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Good. You finally admit you're a pervert too."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dean."

They stopped talking for a few seconds, Savannah and Eric's laughter tapering into breathless giggles. Then Dean asked, "So does that venomous snake pit thing sound hot?"

The vision had changed locations again. Sam wasn't used to this; his visions usually ended after one scene. This one just went on and on.

Chad was in his dorm room, his hands over his ears. His face was etched with pain and torment. "Please stop it. I don't want to hear anymore."

The yellow-eyed shape hovered to one side of him. "Covering your ears won't keep you from hearing me, Chad. Innocent babies will die. Their parents will die. All people will suffer unless you kill these nine. Only nine people, Chad. Is that really a big price to pay to save the world?"

The youth shook his head desperately. "No, no, no. I can't kill anyone."

"But you must. You're my warrior. I chose you for a reason, Chad. You saw the words spelled out in your own blood. God is Now Here. **I** am now here."

Sam seethed with anger; Paul could feel it. "You're not God!" he hissed, although no one but Paul could hear him. "I know who you are. When I find you, I'm going to kill you for what you did to Jessica and my mother. I'll rip those goddamn yellow eyes out of your head and feed them to you!"

Paul wished there was something he could do to soothe the raving man next to him. This demon that had manipulated Chad Goodwell seemed to be the same one that had killed his mother and girlfriend.

Tommy appeared in the room just in time to hear the demon say, "You have to stop them before they get their act together, Chad. Those nine people are going to do horrible, wretched things to everyone on this planet."

Nodding, Tommy added, "They are The Darkness."

Chad began to cry. "I can't kill people."

"You're a lot stronger than you think, Chad. What if I showed you the power you have?" The demon turned his indistinct head toward Tommy and a wisp of mist turned up in what looked like an evil smile. "You could finally get revenge on those jerks who are always harassing you. The ones who beat you up all the time?"

That actually seemed to give Chad pause for a brief moment. Then he shook his head, hands in his hair. "No, no."

"Well..." The demon sighed. "I guess I just have to show you what the world will be like if these people have their way."

Chad's eyes were already closed. He suddenly jerked in his chair and wailed, almost screaming. His eyes flew open. "Oh God... oh _Christ_, what was that?"

"A taste of what the nine people are going to do. The nine people who saw the words all wrong."

Chad swallowed hard, panting. "God is Nowhere."

"Yeeeeees. Only you and the new savior of the world have seen the words the right way. These nine people dream of him, they cower before his might, because they know only he can stop their master plan." That feral smile came to the face of the indistinct mass again. "Only you can help him, Chad. Only you can dispense of as many of them as possible before he takes over."

"Paul Callan?" Chad asked.

"Yes. Yes, Paul Callan."

Paul looked as if he might be sick. "Such evil lies."

The scene before them stretched and changed again. Now, Chad stood in the doorway of another dorm room, one that belonged to his friend Hannah. She sat at a computer desk with a girl and the boys from the field hockey team around her.

They were laughing.

She put her finger on the laptop's screen. "See? He thinks because he friends-locked this post that you guys would never know what he said, but I'm on his friends list so I can see it," she said. "You guys aren't going to be happy when you read this one."

"Hannah?" Chad said, his voice full of hurt.

She turned around with a gasp. "Chad! You can't knock?" Hannah asked. Her own voice betrayed that she knew she'd been caught, and she didn't like it.

"You? You were the one who showed them my posts? I knew someone was leaking them to Gary and the others, but _you_... you pretended to be my friend," Chad said.

"I, uh... I'm sorry, Chad. But Vicki and I are on the same team, and Gary is her boyfriend... I see them all the time. You know how it goes." Hannah shrugged.

"So you had to show them my posts? Betray me?!" Chad yelled.

"They're my friends too, Chad! And you were talking shit about them! What did you expect me to do?"

"Yeah," Gary chimed in, putting an arm around Vicki's neck.

The demonic form floated up behind Chad. "You see? Was I telling the truth or was I telling the truth?"

"Yes, you were," Chad replied. "Everything you said was right."

"What?" Gary said, looking at the others.

"Now, take your revenge, Chad," the demon commanded. "I will give you the power to show them what happens to those who do evil. Warriors of God deliver these lessons in my name. Just concentrate, like we discussed."

His eyes flashing with anger, Chad glared at the group before him.

"You bastard," Sam growled. "You manipulated him to do that. Just like you hurt everyone who crosses your path!"

Gary, Vicki, and the others grimaced and began to make sounds of discomfort. They all grabbed at their heads, knees buckling, fingers grasping at table edges for balance. All but Hannah, who stared in horror at everyone around her.

"What the hell is this?" Gary forced out between grunts of pain.

"Oh God, Chad, please don't do it," Paul breathed.

Although Chad couldn't hear Paul, it almost seemed as if he did, because he waited until his tormentors were on the floor and then released his hold over them. They gasped and panted but were clearly out of danger.

"Felt like my brain was exploding," Gary ground out.

"That's what happens to people who do evil against me," Chad declared. He looked straight at Hannah. "The ones who weren't really involved, like Vicki, they suffered because of you. If I find out you've betrayed me again, I'll finish it." Then he added, "Bitch," and left the room.

"Shit. What do you think that girl thought later, when Chad murdered all those people?" Sam remarked to Paul.

The scene darkened. Slowly, the lights of an apartment burned through the dark of night. Chad stood outside one of the windows. He panted with the effort of controlling his fear.

A dark-haired girl walked by the window. Chad hid, but peeked in at her, then flattened himself against the side of the building.

The demon and Tommy were several yards away, out of Chad's earshot. "This one's going to be interesting," the demon chuckled. "His first kill."

"The first of the God is Nowhere people," Tommy added.

"Yes. But this one will be fun for more reason than that. You remember me telling you about my generations, my generations of psychic children whom I visit in their nurseries?"

"Of course, Boss."

Sam gasped.

The demon confirmed what Sam had just been thinking. "Chad is one of them," the demon said. "The generation of 1983."

"Holy..." Sam exclaimed.

For his own part, Tommy whistled, impressed. "Cool... that's how he was able to attack those kids who beat him up. His power?"

"Yeah." They both laughed mischievously. "I just activated 'im."

"Oh Boss, that's rich. And he thinks God gave him the power. But it was his own."

"I'm a funny one, aren't I?" They shared another raucous laugh.

"So, is she one too?" Tommy indicated the girl in the apartment.

"No, that's Donna. She's not one of my generations." The demon leaned down, closer to Tommy. "But her girlfriend is."

Tommy started to snicker. "Ooh. Tell me she's coming home soon."

The demon sarcastically pretended to check a watch he wasn't wearing. "Any minute."

Tommy hopped up and down with excitement. "Are you going to turn on her powers too?"

"I was thinking of it. Just to keep things interesting. Although... her powers are quite deadly. She could kill Chad without even knowing what she's doing." The demon thought it over. "If she succeeds in killing him, we'll have to find someone else to do our dirty work. And after all the work we've put in..."

"Well... we could just move on to Paul Callan a little earlier," suggested Tommy.

The demon nodded. "I like you're thinking. Now, go on over there and coach Chad into the apartment. The little idiot forgot to bring a weapon, so I'd suggest to him that he use that brick on the ground over there. Bash her head in good."

"Right, Boss. Hey, he could say he's the other girl's friend. That'd get him in easy," Tommy said with a grin. "What's the girlfriend's name?"

The demon replied, "Lily."

"...The guy goes, 'Hey baby, you want a ride?' And I said sure. And then Eric pops up from the bushes and I go, 'Can my brother have a ride too?' You should have seen the guy's face. He thought it was just me." Savannah noticed the troubled look in Dean's eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I dunno, I just got this really uneasy feeling," Dean replied, nervously sliding his hands up and down his thighs. He reached out for Paul through their link, and found great upset. Sadness and anger. That wasn't exactly normal, coming from someone who was just sitting in his apartment, drying off from a shower. He looked up at Paul's window. "Something's wrong."

Savannah offered, "You want me to feel out for anybody, see what's up?"

"No, that's okay. I need to head back upstairs. I'll call you, alright?" Dean clapped Eric on the shoulder on his way by, then jogged back toward the building.

Looking disappointed, Eric mumbled, "He's always doing that."

Savannah put her arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry about it. We'll see Dean tomorrow or something." As they walked away, she held up the credit card Dean had given her. "How about some ice cream? It's on Chris Robinson."

"Hi, I'm a friend of Lily's," said Chad. "Is she here?"

The guy had instantly set off alarm bells in Donna's head. For one thing, his mannerisms screamed intense nervousness as he fidgeted in the doorway, his hand constantly going in his coat pocket. And he was sweating. "Where do you know Lily from?"

"College." Chad tried to smile. His hand brushed the brick in his pocket again. "We have two classes together."

"Oh yeah? Which ones?"

"Um... English. And that, uh, science class where..."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Damn it. You've already screwed up. Just force your way in."

Chad, his hand in his pocket, finished, "...you look at the stars a lot." At the same time that he brought the brick out, Donna tried to slam the door in his face. Chad shoved on the door so hard that she lost ground and he was able to get his arm through. He hit Donna in the side of the head with the brick. She cried out, one hand going to her temple, the other trying to hold the door closed.

"Push harder, Chad!" Tommy urged. "Before someone hears!"

His desire not to be caught got Chad to take a step back and run into the door with his bent arm, putting all his weight against it. Donna was thrown back. She almost fell, but regained her footing just in time to see Chad raise the brick. "You sick - " Donna began, but was cut off when he bashed her over the head as hard as he could. She fell to the floor, semi-conscious.

Breathing hard, Chad quickly shut the door. "Oh God, her head is bleeding."

"That's the idea," Tommy reminded him. "Put her on the bed."

Doing as he was told, Chad picked the girl up around her ribcage and dragged her over to the bed. Donna moaned. "Lily's not taking any science classes," she slurred.

To distract himself from the horrible act he was committing, he thought about superfluous things, like how small the apartment was, how it was just a one-room efficiency with a small kitchenette and a bathroom. Chad tossed her onto the bed facedown. What kind of rug was that on the wall? "Okay, now what?"

"Finish her off." Tommy pointed to the brick.

"Jesus," Paul choked, and closed his eyes. Sam followed his lead.

The noises were almost as bad as the actual image of Chad hitting the girl over the head repeatedly. Chad's grunts of effort, her pain-filled moans, and the crunch of splintering bone. Sam opened his eyes for a second and instantly regretted it; it was all splattering blood and Chad's tormented face.

"Is she dead yet?" he asked, sounding and looking sick.

Tommy sighed tiredly. "Why don't you check if she's breathing?" He glanced at the demon as if to say, _This kid, he wouldn't be able to find his ass with a full-scale topographical map of his body._

The demon shook his head.

He checked. "She's dead." Chad breathed out harshly. "Oh God, I killed her."

"Again, that was the point. Now, you should make it look like a rape. We don't want the police to easily connect these murders. And never use the same weapon twice."

Chad nodded obediently.

Indicating Donna, Tommy instructed, "Tie her hands behind her back. Then remove her bottoms."

Chad made a face. He clearly didn't want to touch her anymore. "Okay."

Lily came in when Chad had Donna's shorts down to mid-thigh. She saw this stranger straddling her girlfriend, taking off her pajamas, hands tied... oh Christ, her head... hair soaked in blood... the odd shape of her skull... and that bewildered, almost stupid look on the guy's face when he realized he'd been caught. If Chad had made it out of this alive, he would have never forgotten the shocked look on Lily's face, like someone had just reached into her chest and ripped out her heart.

Next thing either of them knew, Lily was howling and tackling Chad off the bed, smacking him in the head with her open palms.

Tommy seemed disappointed. "Damn. She's got on mittens."

The demon nodded. "Yes, it's a bit chilly out. Unseasonable for southern California." Watching his two chosen ones fight on the floor, the demon still enjoyed it. A tendril of mist curled up in a proud smile. "She's always cold."

Lily was screaming. Yanking at Chad's hair and screaming, "You bastard, you fucking bastard, what did you do to her?!"

Chad held his arms in front of his face, trying to protect himself.

"Fight back!" Tommy yelled. "Fight back or she'll kill you!"

Hearing that, Chad shoved at Lily with all of his might. It got her off of him and he was able to get up and run for the door. Lily was up off the floor and right behind him. She got enough of a hold on the back of his coat to swing him around, throwing him up against the sink. The motion pulled off her right mitten.

"Alright, this is about to get interesting!" Tommy laughed.

Screaming like a wild woman, Lily ran at Chad with her bare hand raised, ready to smack him again. At the last second, Chad cowered away with a frying pan from her own kitchen protecting his face. Lily struck the pan. She shrieked, holding her hand in pain.

"Awwww," Tommy groaned.

In a last ditch effort to escape, Chad hit Lily across the face with the frying pan, knocking her down, and went for the door.

"Run, Chad!" yelled Tommy. "Get out that door and just keep running! Don't look back!"

Chad slammed into one of Lily and Donna's neighbors on his way out the door. He had been coming to see why Lily was screaming like that. Bowling the man over, Chad just kept running as he had been told, and did not look back.

"Hey!" a second neighbor called. He started to chase the fleeing man. But as Sam and Paul knew, he did not catch Chad Goodwell.

The first neighbor looked in through the door and put a hand over his mouth. "Oh... God..."

Holding her rapidly bruising face, Lily crawled over to the bed. She put her other hand on Donna's leg and began to cry. "Donna... Donna... no..."

The demon shook his head. "Chad's more resourceful than I first guessed. I thought Lily had him for sure. If she had touched Chad with her bare hand, his heart would have stopped dead." He seemed disappointed. "I had my heart set on seeing that."

**Additional Notes:** I really liked Lily. I'm not entirely sure why. I guess there was just something about her story and the actress who played her that I liked. Her part was far too small for my liking, so I decided to give her a little more airtime in my fanfics. For the curious, Donna does not represent/is not the girlfriend Lily accidentally killed by touching her.

On to Part 3

1

**The Darkness, It Wants** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.

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	3. Chapter 3

**The Darkness, It Wants**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 3 of 3  
**Rating:** Adult for sexual situations between two men, discussion of sexual kink involving guns, bad language, and violence (including several graphic murder scenes)  
**Dates:** Written August 2008  
**Word Count:** 15,380 total  
**Summary:** In early 2003, Chad Goodwell murdered five people because the voice of God told him to. Sam's visions finally reveal the truth of how the 19-year-old college student was manipulated into destroying so many lives, and who was really behind it all.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Paul Callan  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for _Miracles_.  
**Warning:** Discussion of gun kink. Graphic murder scenes. Spoilers for _Miracles_ "Hand of God" and "The Ferguson Syndrome." Spoilers for _Supernatural_ "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1" and the pilot. Spoilers for the classic _Star Trek_ episode "The Empath." One scene contains homophobic language.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Harshini for beta'ing.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows "Unspoken."

Out in the hall, Dean hoped to himself that Paul hadn't locked the door behind him; he didn't want to make a lot of noise getting back in. If Paul removed one of those damn warding crystals again... he found the front door unlocked.

What he saw before him in Paul's living room simultaneously perplexed Dean and horrified him. Sammy lay on the air mattress, staring up at the ceiling, shaking and grunting in pain. He pounded his left fist into the mattress angrily. Paul held the wrist of Sam's right hand. He wasn't making any noise, just quietly sitting there on his knees, eyes closed, looking like he was taking Sam's pulse. Or praying.

"Paul! What's going on?" Dean cried. He got on the air mattress and looked at them both. "Paul!" He had to resist adding, _What are you doing to my brother?!_

Paul didn't answer.

"Paul!" Dean pried Paul's hand off Sam's wrist.

Gasping, Paul leaned to one side, eyes popping open and chest heaving with deep breaths. "Oh God... oh God..." he panted. Paul looked around, blinking. "Dean?"

"What's happening?"

"Oh..." Paul made an attempt to catch his breath. "Your brother's having a vision. I touched..." Another heavy breath. "...I touched him and I could see what he was seeing."

"What? Have you ever done that before?"

"No. I must go back in, Dean. You won't believe it. We're learning so many important things."

Dean leaned over his brother, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Sam did not react to him. "Sam? Sammy!" Dean shook him. Sam, again, did not react. "How long has he been in?"

"I don't know; how long did your phone call take?"

Looking up sharply, Dean seemed terrified by that question. "I was down there at least ten minutes."

"Then he's been under for ten minutes," Paul replied.

Eyes wide, Dean returned to his efforts to pull Sam out of it. "Sammy! Sammy! Wake up! Come back to me! This is dangerous! You've never done this before!"

"Dean, let me go back in. Maybe I can bring Sam out of the vision." Truthfully, Paul had no idea if he could really do that, or where this little narrative was going to end. But he had to try.

A look of helpless concern on his face, Dean asked, "Do you really think you can?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then go in and get 'im." Dean added, "Take care of my baby brother."

"I will." Paul stroked Dean's cheek, and then, with a little prayer, took hold of Sam's wrist again.

When Paul reentered the vision, it appeared to be moving faster. Chad approached a dark-skinned man in a parking lot after dark. "Excuse me. Are you Gregory Anderson?"

"Yes."

Without saying another word, Chad simply pulled a knife and began stabbing the man, shoving him up against his car.

The vision changed again. Chad took off a bloody coat and tossed it in a dumpster. Now, he walked a parking lot on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The waves beat thunderously against the rocks. It all would have been a very majestic sight if he hadn't had eyes only for the girl near the guardrail, the Asian teenage girl looking through the telescopic machine at the Pacific Ocean.

"Sam?" Paul said.

Sam, visibly upset, looked at Paul. "Where'd you go? You were gone for a second."

"Dean came back. He's worried about you. You've been in this vision for over ten minutes."

Surprised, Sam exclaimed, "Shit."

Chad was next to the Asian girl now, pretending he wanted to use the telescope beside her. "Um, do you have a quarter?"

"Sam, maybe we should go now," said Paul. "Dean says you've never done this before."

"But this is important," Sam protested. The girl smiled at Chad and looked in her purse for change. "I have to see what happened."

"Sam, we already know what happened - "

"No we don't! Look how many new things we've learned already." Sam gestured toward the demonic form floating toward Chad, ready to coach him through it. "That thing murdered Jessica. It murdered my mother. Whatever I'm here to learn, I'm going to learn all of it."

The girl put a quarter in Chad's hand. "Here," she said.

Chad softly touched her fingers when she gave him the coin. "I hope this doesn't sound sleazy, but you're really pretty."

She giggled, obviously flattered.

He pointed to her keychain, which had a name on it. "Natsumi? Is that your name?"

"Uh huh," Natsumi said with a bubbly smile.

Paul pressed him. "Sam, I told your brother I would take care of you. Please come back with me."

"Not until it's all over."

"Natsumi, can I ask you something?"

"Depends on what it is," she giggled.

Chad lingered with his hand touching hers. "Why would you burn a baby alive?"

Fear and surprise rippled across her youthful face. She couldn't be more than fifteen. "What?"

His expression changing, Chad grabbed her wrist. Natsumi tried to pull away from this stranger, who was now looking at her with disgust and anger. "God showed me what you're planning to do. How can you do it? Why are you making me hurt you?!"

"Are you crazy? Hel - "

Natsumi started to scream for help, but Chad spun her around and held her prone with her arm wrapped tight against her chest, covering her mouth with his free hand. "How can you look so pretty but be so evil? The first girl I killed was pretty too, but she had a protector. God said it was a demon. But I overcame it."

To the girl, this was insane babble. She struggled against him as he dragged and carried her over to the guardrail, whimpering against his hand. Her pink faux leather purse, with its 'Natsumi' keychain hanging from the zipper pull, fell to the pavement.

"I never wanted to kill anybody. Do you understand that? You made me do this with your murderous thoughts, you bitch." Chad forced her over the top of the guardrail. Natsumi screamed and attempted to keep her feet on the safe side of it, but she was now hanging over the edge of the cliff. "You brought this on yourself," he said, and threw her over the edge.

Natsumi let out a terrified scream as she disappeared over the side.

Both Paul and Sam winced. "Sam, please... let's go. I can't watch anymore of this."

Shaking his head, Sam said, "You can go if you want, but I'm staying until the end."

Scene switching, and Chad was climbing down the side of the cliff, sweating and whining with the effort. He found the girl on a small cliff fifty feet below.

Bleeding from the head, leg twisted under her, Natsumi hovered near death. She saw Chad, and whimpered, "No... no... go away."

He knelt beside her, pulling a knife. "Why do you have to make this harder on me?"

Natsumi tried to say, "No, I want my mom - " as Chad slit her throat.

Turning away, Paul almost sobbed, "Sam, please!"

It suddenly occurred to Sam how little he knew about Paul Callan. Why was he trying so hard to get Sam to leave? "Paul, what year were you born?"

He paused, wondering what caused this turn of conversation. "1973. Why?"

"How did your mother die?"

That surprised him too, but he answered. "Cancer. I was almost five."

Sam didn't say anything for a while. "Oh," he finally replied, then added, "I told you I was staying 'til this is... oh shit, Paul, look!"

Paul did, and saw Dean's car, the Impala, in the parking lot of a neon-lit bar. Loud rock music wafted through the walls. Chad snuck up to the back of the car and crouched behind it, Tommy joining him. He coached Chad through picking the lock.

"God, that's right - Dean is a God is Nowhere person. Did Chad try to kill him?" Paul wondered aloud.

Sam added, "Well, if he did, we know how it turned out."

After getting the trunk open, Tommy told him about the hidden compartment. Chad gawked at all the weapons. "You see? This one is totally ready for the horrible things he and his buddies have planned. He's been practicing by carving up the women he charms into coming home with him. Already he has an insatiable taste for killing."

Picking up a machete, Chad's eyes widened at the dried blood on its blade. "His name is Dean Winchester?"

"Yes." Tommy pointed out a blade on a long handle; it barely fit in the trunk. "Why don't you kill him with one of his own weapons? Just last week, he chopped up a woman with that one."

Both Sam and Paul angrily said, "Liar," and then looked at each other.

Chad obediently took out the blade and gazed at it. "Sick bastard. This one will be a pleasure."

By the time Dean came out of the bar, his arm around the waist of a buxom blonde, Chad had been waiting by the door with the weapon for several minutes. "Did you really work with Paul Newman on your last movie?" the blonde asked.

"You bet I did, sweetheart. You don't mind doing your screen test at my hotel, do you?" Dean asked.

"Not at all."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Good lord, Dean."

With Dean only a few yards away, Chad decided to strike. He ran up behind him and stabbed at him with the blade. Dean, hearing Chad's feet crunching on the gravel, turned just in time to jerk his midsection out of the way; the blade whooshed past his stomach. Dean grabbed the weapon's shaft, twisted it out of Chad's hand, and elbowed him in the nose, all with only a few motions. Chad stumbled back into the side of the bar, his hands to his nose, which was gushing blood.

The blonde hardly had time to scream.

Dean glared at this kid who had just tried to kill him. "Who the fuck are you?"

Chad stared at him in surprise before turning and running away as fast as he could.

Sighing and throwing up his hands in defeat, Tommy looked up at the demon. "Well, that didn't go well."

"No." The demon glowered down at Tommy. "It didn't."

Dean wanted to go after the guy, but he couldn't leave his date alone in a dark parking lot. He flipped the blade in the air and caught it by the shaft, showing off. "Musta been a mugger."

"Wow," the woman exclaimed. "Are you a stuntman?"

Dean flashed a charming smile. "I have been known to dabble in a little of everything."

Shocked at seeing this side of Dean, Paul could only laugh and shake his head. Why did a guy that good-looking need to lie to get women, or more importantly, why did Dean feel he needed to lie?

After this defeat, Chad's mood seemed to change considerably. Before, he was becoming almost cocky when he killed these people, telling the last one that she had brought her murder on herself. Now, he gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands, plainly having second thoughts. Rain poured down from the dark night sky. The sky was crying again; he liked to think it was crying for him. He wasn't sure he could go through with anymore of it. From the car, he could see Gretchen Albright walk past her front window. If he was going to say something, it was now or never. "Look, I think what we've been doing is wrong. Maybe it's better if we just call it quits."

The child in the passenger seat turned toward Chad with a critical look in his eye. "Chad, you can't quit now. We've talked about how important this is," Tommy said.

Halfway through his sentence, Chad tried to talk over him. "People are getting hurt." He heard Tommy, however, and couldn't be more tired of being reminded how important this work was. He was just a nineteen-year-old kid. Why him? "I don't want to do this anymore!" Chad yelled, whimpering with the threatening tears.

For a child, Tommy could muster up a mighty scolding tone. "Chad..."

"Please don't make me do this," he pleaded. Gretchen passed by her living room window again. "There's got to be another way."

The demon was in the back seat. It leaned forward, putting a tendril that looked like a hand to Chad's ear and whispering to him. "There isn't. You know what will happen to the world if you don't finish it."

The being that Chad thought was God filled his mind with the images, the horrible images of what the God is Nowhere people would do if he didn't kill them all. Instantly, the fear melted away. "Okay, okay, you're right. You're right."

Tommy smiled mischievously at the form in the back seat.

The tormented college student, with a resigned look on his face, said, "Just tell me when to go."

"Go now," Tommy replied.

Chad got out of the car into the rainy Massachusetts night and headed toward the house to murder Gretchen Albright.

Waiting only briefly, Tommy began to laugh, almost cackle. "For a second there, I thought he might actually quit."

"No. We've got too tight a rein on his mind. I'm not sure I've ever seen someone so easy to manipulate," the demon remarked. "My kids are usually more strong-willed than that. How shameful." He sighed. "He's not my favorite, you know. That's why I'm testing him this way. It's turned out to be pretty fun, sending an innocent kid on such a dark path."

Tommy laughed again. "It sure has! Once we're done, you gotta find a body to possess. It's really weird talking to you like this."

"We can't let anyone see me, can we?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong - I wasn't complaining. I understand. I may be just a mere Shade, but even I know what an honor it is to work with a demon of your stature."

The misty form seemed to smile. "We do make a good team. Now get in there and coach the kid through it."

"Sure thing, Azazel!"

Paul, clearly stunned, repeated, "Azazel?!"

Still on the outside, Dean watched his brother's pain continue, becoming more and more anxious. "Paul... what's taking so long?"

Tommy was down on the kitchen floor, beating his hand against the linoleum like a wrestling referee counting out a competitor who had been pinned. "Keep it up, Chad! Just a couple more minutes!"

Chad had the tape measure wrapped tightly around Gretchen Albright's throat. She lay struggling on the floor, clawing at the tape measure and his hands, trying to gasp for breath. Only strangled choking noises of distress escaped her mouth, her legs kicking wildly.

The look on Chad's face was twisted, tormented, on the verge of crying or throwing up, or maybe doing both. A howl built in his throat. "Goddamn it, just die already! Why does it take so long?!"

"Don't stop now! She'll be dead soon," said Tommy.

Azazel watched from nearby, hovering close to a corner of the kitchen counter. "Look, she's losing consciousness. Tell him to keep choking her for a while longer, just to be sure."

Gretchen's eyes rolled up into her head, and she fainted.

"Don't slack up, Chad. We have to make sure she's dead," Tommy reiterated.

Chad nodded vigorously and continued pulling the tape measure taut. He couldn't help but be relieved that the woman had passed out; doing this was always easier when they weren't struggling and making those horrible sounds.

When it was done, Chad released the tape measure with shaking hands and backpedaled a few feet across the kitchen floor. He whimpered helplessly. "That was awful," he moaned.

Grinning, Tommy sat up on his knees. "You did it, Chad. Another one down." Then, waving a triumphant fist in the air, he sang, "Whomp, whomp, whomp, another one bites the dust!"

Azazel caught his eye and shook his head. Tommy immediately wiped the evil smile off his face, trying to behave.

Floating over next to Chad, Azazel whispered in his ear, "You did a good job, Chad. I was starting to think you were weak, but I underestimated you. You are worthy of the task I have set before you. You are my warrior. I'm proud of you."

For a moment, Chad looked satisfied with himself, basking in "God's" approval. Then his face paled and he leapt up, went for the sink, and vomited into it.

Tommy and Azazel took advantage of the distraction to have a short conversation. "You want him to get Gretchen's journal and leave it on the table, open to the page that has 'God is Nowhere' written on it, right?"

"Right," Azazel replied. "So the police find it."

Tommy snickered behind his hand. "It's funny to me that all of this is really about manipulating Paul Callan."

In reaction, Paul's eyebrows went up in shock.

Azazel nodded his misty head. "He's not one of mine, but he's very important to the fate of the world. Everyone where I come from would like to see him dark. It's just a bonus that we get rid of the God is Nowhere people in the process."

Laughing softly, Tommy declared, "Boss, you're a genius!" And they both shared a good chuckle.

Sam and Paul looked at each other once again. "You were right, Sam," Paul began. "It _was_ important that we finish this."

When they turned their attention back to the vision, Chad was leaning into the window of a car. "Hi, Danielle?"

The woman looked up at him with a fearful expression. Before she could properly react, Chad raised the rifle and shot her.

The loud sound of the gun startled both Sam and Paul out of this scene and into the next. They could see the Paul of the past fighting with Chad, the two of them punching each other around Kenneth Webster's kitchen. What Paul hadn't been able to see that night was the Tommy imposter chasing them, air punching like a boxer in a movie. "Deck him like this, Chad! Hit 'im again! Be careful not to kill Paul; we still need him!"

The demon floated rapidly across the room and smacked Tommy in the back of the head, like a parent would do to a wicked-tongued child. "Don't say it like that," Azazel snapped. "It sounds suspicious."

Looking annoyed, Tommy rubbed his head. "Right. Sorry, Boss."

"Paul, is that really you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. This is when I came into the story. I stopped Chad from killing Kenneth Webster, the sixth God is Nowhere person. Or, I guess, the seventh."

"Hey, way to go," Sam remarked.

Paul looked at the floor, wondering if he deserved the verbal pat on the back after what he'd considered doing to Mr. Webster later that night. As if the force in control of the visions heard him, the scene switched, and Paul now saw the floor of Kenneth Webster's hospital room under his feet. He looked up.

There he was, standing in the doorway of the hospital room, looking at Mr. Webster sleeping uneasily in the bed after the beating Chad Goodwell had given him. Paul felt uneasy himself as he watched this scene. Would Sam know what he had thought that night? The awful thoughts that had gone through his head?

The Paul from the present time gasped as Azazel walked up behind Paul of the past with the fake Tommy at his side. "You keep quiet. If I whisper to him ever so softly, he'll think it's his conscience talking to him." Azazel moved up beside Paul and began to whisper in his ear. "What if Chad Goodwell was right? What if this is what it all means? If this man is part of a group of people who are going to do something evil to the world, it just may be my Christian duty to stop him. It would be easy to just finish what Chad started. The man is so vulnerable right now... if he is a mere man."

Paul of the past stood silently, looking at Kenneth Webster, sleeping in the bed.

Sam stared at both Pauls, his horror growing. After all, he didn't know how this whole thing had ended up. Maybe no one knew but Paul.

Azazel pressed, "Is this what Tommy saved me for? Is this what that innocent kid died for, so I could save the world? I owe it to him to make sure he didn't die in vain. My life must mean something."

A phantom, transparent Paul walked across the room, toward the bed, while the real Paul stayed in the doorway. Sam realized he was seeing a representation of Paul's thoughts, what he had been thinking of doing that night.

"What if Kenneth Webster helps carry out these horrible plans that Chad was talking about, and I have to know that I did nothing to stop it for the rest of my life? Would I be able to live with myself?" Azazel said in Paul's ear, continuing to pretend to be Paul's inner voice.

The phantom Paul picked up a pillow from the bed and pressed it down over Mr. Webster's face. The helpless man barely struggled; he couldn't. Sam swallowed hard and looked at the Paul of the present, who appeared to be quite ashamed to have someone else seeing his most private thoughts.

Pleased, Azazel whispered, "Yes, that's exactly what I should do. It's what God would want me to do. Sometimes, one has to die to save billions of lives. I should really go over to the bed and smother the man right now, before someone comes. It's the most humane way to finish him off. After the beating Chad delivered, he might not live anyway. I should do it. I should do it."

"Do it," Tommy urged.

Phantom Paul whispered to Kenneth Webster. "Shhhh, let go," he said, telling Mr. Webster to die.

The real Paul of the past fidgeted in the doorway.

"I should do it. I should do it. Do it right now!"

In the mirage that only existed in Paul's thoughts, Kenneth Webster died. A doctor ran up to the door and yelled for Paul to stop. Suddenly, the phantoms froze as a voice interrupted the illusion with an impassioned command.

"STOP." The voice had come from above them. A woman's voice. Azazel and Tommy looked up. "No, baby. You can't be sure that the things Chad Goodwell said are the truth. Mr. Webster is a helpless, badly injured man right now. It would be wrong to hurt him further."

While the phantom doctor did not move, Phantom Paul also looked toward the ceiling. "Mom?"

"Yes, baby. Yes, my Paulie. Turn around and leave the room. You are not meant to kill this man tonight." His mother's voice, full of warmth and love, assured him, "This is not what God wants."

The phantom Paul disappeared.

Sam looked at present-day Paul. He was fighting back tears. "I just thought it was my imagination, that she spoke to me that night," Paul confessed.

Sympathetic, Sam put his other hand over Paul's and squeezed it. "If it's any consolation, if I'd been in your position, I might've thought of killing the man too."

Paul smiled gratefully back at Sam.

"Damn," Azazel growled. "We lost him."

Paul of the past turned and walked from the hospital room.

Back in the present, Paul and Sam jerked in place, crying out. Paul let go of Sam's wrist like his arm had suddenly become a hot burner on a stove. It scared Dean; he jumped a little, eyes wide. Sam and Paul panted without saying anything.

Dean realized as he looked into his brother's eyes that they were now focused, that Sam was seeing him. "Hey, ya doofball," he said, his own eyes shimmering with relief and gratitude. "Welcome back."

Dean scribbled furiously on the pad of paper, trying to get down everything Paul was saying. Sam was allowing him to tell most of the story as he was very obviously in a great deal of pain. His hazel green eyes stayed half-open, occasionally closing, a wet cloth placed across his forehead. Dean couldn't be sure Sam was hearing everything they were saying, as at times, his eyes glassed over again like they did when he was sick, or having a vision. Every once in a while, Dean would stop writing and gently, lovingly rub his brother's head.

"How's that Vicodin treating you, bro?" he asked Sam.

Sam made a pained noise in reply.

Because there was nothing else he could do to take away his brother's pain, Dean tried to concentrate on the work before them; it took his mind off how helpless and frail they really were. "I remember my dad telling me once about a type of doppelganger called a Shade. It's a small time evil spirit, but it can mimic people pretty closely and has the power to make itself invisible. We may be dealing with one of those."

"I thought shade was another name for a ghost," Paul remarked.

"It is. It's just one of those words that has multiple meanings in the supernatural world."

"Is there a way to tell it apart from whoever it's mimicking?"

Dean nodded. "Shades have red irises." He circled the tip of his finger in front of his eye to indicate the colored part around the pupils. "They can hide them, but whenever the light catches their eyes, it's supposed to be easy to see." For a moment, he just looked at Paul, examining him. "Are you sure you're not in pain?"

"I feel fine." He pointed at Sam. "It was his vision; I just piggybacked."

"I see. I think." Sighing, Dean asked, "So you recognize this name, Azazel?"

"Oh yeah. Here's where my degrees come in handy." Paul grinned. "Azazel's story is told in the Book of Enoch. It's not recognized as one of the canonical books of Holy Scripture, but it was supposed to have been written by the great-grandfather of Noah. Azazel was one of the leaders of the Grigori, a group of fallen angels. They were given the job of watching over the affairs of humankind. When they saw how beautiful human women were, they wanted to marry and have children with them, but this was forbidden. They did it anyway. These children were the Nephilim, a hybrid race of war-like superhumans who would cause other men to fall.

"Azazel is also credited with teaching people how to make weapons and cosmetics. These teachings lead to godlessness, and people went astray. For revealing these eternal secrets that should only belong to the denizens of Heaven, for corrupting mankind, Azazel was cast out and into darkness. The Book of Enoch says, 'The whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin.' On the day of great judgment, Azazel 'shall be cast into the fire.'"

"Where he belongs," Sam said, and moaned in pain.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked his brother.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam rolled over on his side. "Dean, I'm trying really hard to be strong and not show how much this hurts, but..." Both of his hands went to his head. "Ohhh, shit..."

Putting his arms around Sam's head, Dean cradled it against his chest. "You were under for over ten minutes, Sammy." His voice shook. "You shouldn't do that."

"What we learned was too important," Sam responded weakly.

"It should be me." Sniffling, Dean kissed the top of Sam's head. "Why can't it be me who's in this much pain? Give it to me."

The look of sympathy on Paul's face was so strong as he felt the warmth of Dean's love for his brother and the level at which he suffered, knowing that he couldn't take away Sam's pain. Out of nowhere, Paul scrunched up his face and put his fingers to his temple, making a pained sound. At the same time, Sam relaxed. He looked up at Dean, bewildered.

"Paul?" Dean watched, perplexed, as Paul put both hands to his head and fell over on the end of the air mattress. "Paul?!"

"Oh God, it hurts," Paul forced out through gritted teeth.

Before Dean could move, Sam sat up and said, "I feel fine, Dean. All the pain is gone." He went to Paul. "Paul, is it your head?"

"Uh huh," he answered feebly.

Dean hadn't quite gotten it yet. He moved down the mattress to Paul's side. "What the hell just happened?"

"Paul, before the pain started, did you wish that there was something you could do to take away my pain?" Sam asked.

Paul tried to nod.

"Holy crap." He looked at Dean. "Dean, don't you see? He's a fully-functioning empath."

"What does that mean?"

"They dramatized it on that episode of 'Star Trek' where Kirk, Spock, and Bones were kidnapped by aliens and used as guinea pigs for an empathic woman the aliens wanted to test."

Dean thought back to his youth spent cooped up in hotel rooms watching reruns on television. "Was that the one with the blue women?"

"No, Dean. Remember, Kirk got a cut on his forehead and the empath took on his injury with just her will? The cut disappeared from his head and reappeared on hers?" Sam described.

Dean seemed to get it. "Paul just took on your pain?"

"Yes! In theory, he should be able to process it out now."

Eyes hopeful, Dean leaned down with his face in front of Paul's. "Paul, process it out. Get rid of Sam's pain now."

He just panted for a few seconds before admitting, "I don't know how."

"What do you mean, you don't know how? How could you take on someone else's pain without knowing how to get rid of it?"

"I... I don't even know how I took it in the first place."

That helpless expression coming back to his face, Dean began to rub Paul's head as he had Sam's.

"I'll get him some Vicodin." Sam got up and ran to the bathroom.

Dean kissed Paul's head. "You big dope. How could you do that to yourself? You stupid, wonderful dope." It suddenly occurred to him that they had an empathic link between them. "Give it to me. Paul, give all the pain to me."

Paul shook his head. "No."

"Paul! I order you to give the pain to me!"

"No!" Paul buried his face in the mattress.

Sam came back with a glass of water and two pills. "Here." They gave the medicine to Paul, who leaned up far enough to drink and then flopped back down, whimpering. "You better get him to bed."

Wrapping Paul's arm around his neck, Dean hauled him up and walk-dragged him to his room. Paul tried not to make too much noise, but it was obvious how bad his head hurt from the expression on his face. As soon as Dean had him out of Sam's sight, he started kissing Paul gratefully on the lips.

"Thank you, thank you," Dean said between kisses. "Thank you for taking away Sammy's pain." He hugged Paul to him.

"Dean, hold me," Paul begged. "Please, hold me."

At first, Dean didn't reply, just put Paul in his bed. He felt torn.

Sam came to the doorway. "He doesn't look good."

"Sammy, get back in bed. Just a few minutes ago, you were in just as much pain."

"And now I'm fine. Dean, he took all my pain away." Sam did a little dance to show how good he felt, spreading out his arms at the end like he was doing a Broadway show. "I think you should stay with him. Sleep in his bed, and keep an eye on him. Paul needs it. Okay?"

"But what if your pain comes back in the middle of the night?" Dean pressed.

"If I need anything, I'll holler. Alright?" Sam gazed at Paul with that sick, hangdog look on his face. The man had taken away his pain, just like that. He deserved a night alone with his lover. "I'd feel guilty if anything happened to Paul after what he did for me. Look after him."

Another moment of consideration and Dean agreed. "Okay. Goodnight."

He crawled into bed with Paul, turning out the light. Paul immediately wrapped his arms around Dean and cuddled up to his chest. Dean pulled the covers over them. "Shhhh, I'm here. I'm here." He stroked Paul's hair.

"I want to pray. To pray for the pain to go away," Paul said into his chest.

"Okay."

"You pray with me."

"Sure, I'll pray with you. But you've got to say the words first and I'll repeat them, 'cause I don't know prayers so well. And don't you do this for me until you know how to process the pain out, you got it?" Dean insisted.

Making a whimpery sound, Paul retorted, "How do I learn how to do that if I don't practice?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Quit making sense." He figured prayer might be something Paul could focus on, to take his mind off the pain. It might even be how he could learn to shed himself of it. "Okay, you start."

Paul began one of his favorite prayers, the Hail Mary. "Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee."

Dean had heard that one before, and said the words just a short beat behind him. They continued like that until Paul had fallen into a troubled sleep.

Out in the living room, Sam took up the pad of paper and wrote for several minutes. He wanted to get it all down before sleep took some of the details away from him. Everything they had learned... Mr. Keel was going to find it all intensely interesting the next day. Then Sam shut out the light and laid on his side on the air mattress.

Shortly after, having realized that he had the whole bed to himself, Sam turned over on his back and spread out his long arms and legs with a big smile. "Ahhh," he sighed contentedly.

Out in the night, the Darkness waited.

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**The Darkness, It Wants** is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.

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